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Bridges handed each of us a glass of wine and took one for himself. “It’s the schematics for the new ultra-light bike we’ve created. It’s made from...” Bridges went on to explain to Mom about carbon fiber bike frames, but meanwhile, I stewed on what she’d said about Uncle Edmond. I made up my mind to call him the next day. We had things to discuss.

“I’ll be making a bike for Weston for the ride next June. He’s working damn hard, May. He’s going to be successful at this. The reason I wanted you to come to my parents’ place tonight is because I want Weston to explain to my father all the progress he’s making toward his goal. He has three corporate sponsors for his ride, and it’s just Thanksgiving. He’s been...”

I interrupted. “I don’t think Mom cares, Bridges. She and Edmond don’t think I can accomplish anything on my own. That’s fine.”

My mood was shot to hell. I wasn’t nervous about seeing Daryl and Constance any longer. Everyone was going to come at me with preconceived notions of my abilities and their judgments on my progress. I wasn’t sure how the fuck I could ever overcome that.

“Weston, I didn’t say anything of the sort. I have faith in you, son. I would have contested the will if I didn’t think you could show all of those people you could handle the responsibility of planning and completing whatever you chose to try. I want you to use this time to show yourself that you can do anything. Please, don’t doubt me, Weston. I’m your biggest cheerleader.” Mom hugged me, and I couldn’t not hug her back. We’d been through a lot of shit together, and she had always been my fiercest supporter.

I downed my glass of wine and picked up a cube of cheddar and a cracker. “We’re taking a car service. Sine no one’s driving, West, you want another glass?” Bridges offered me a comforting smile.

“Oh, he doesn’t need another glass.” Mom’s comment immediately sparked my temper, especially after she’d been so supportive.

“I’d love another glass, Daddy.” Yeah, it was dirty pool to call him the sexually charged nickname in front of my mother, especially since Bridges and I hadn’t talked about kinks, but my response was more about shock value for my mother that I was old enough to drink if I wanted than hinting at any desire to have an age-play relationship.

Thankfully, when I turned to hand him my empty glass, Bridges smirked. “Stop. You’re being a brat.”

He rushed up the stairs as I turned to Mom. “I’m not a child, you know. I’m legally an adult, and I can make the decision about whether I’ve had too much to drink.”

Mom scowled as he put her wineglass on a nearby table. “Don’t embarrass him in front of his parents, Weston.”

Bridges’ laughter echoed through the showroom. “May, let me stop you there. I know West realizes he has to make an impression on my father to get his vote, but there’s nothing he could do to embarrass me. My parents and I have a tenuous relationship at best. If my father wasn’t a voting member of the Board of Directors, I wouldn’t ask either of you to endure the bullshit we’re going to see at this dinner.”

Bridges held up the bottle of Sav Blanc and three clean wine glasses. “The car will be here in a minute. Let’s enjoy the ride.”

God, I wanted to hug that man hard. How the hell had he come into my life just when I needed him? He was a fucking powerhouse, and I was here for it.

We got into the sedan, me in the middle of the backseat as Bridges poured Mom and me another glass of wine and then himself while the car headed across the bridge and uptown. I was still dreading the dinner, but with a little lubrication and Bridges’ vigilance, I’d be okay.

“May, dear, it’s so good to see you. We’re sorry we didn’t reach out sooner, but we wanted to respect your privacy to grieve at your own pace.” Constance greeted Mom as we stepped off the elevator into their apartment at the Primrose.

Constance hugged her and air-kissed Mom’s cheeks, and I was immediately pissed. Neither of the Eaton’s reached out to us after Dad died. Seeing them now was the first time I’d seen them since Dad’s funeral. I was struck dumb at Constance’s proclamation that they were giving Mom ten months to grieve before they checked on her.

Mom, always the diplomat, responded with a smile. “Thank you, Constance. I truly appreciate your consideration.”

It was bullshit, but I stood next to Mom and kept my mouth shut until Daryl turned his attention to me. “Well, Weston, how’ve you been? What are you doing these days?”

It took everything inside me to keep from suggesting he go fuck himself, but I held my tongue and thought about the end result I was seeking. He was a voting member of the Board, and I needed him on my side.

“I’m doing well, sir. I’m working for an executive courier service in Manhattan. I’ve even delivered packages to the Aames Building a few times. How’ve you been, Mr. Eaton?”

If you can’t kill them with kindness, dazzle them with bullshit. My history teacher told us that during my senior year of high school. Mr. Bernard wasn’t wrong.

“Well, we miss Claude, but the business is thriving. I don’t know if you’re aware of what’s going on at Aames Investments.” His haughty tone fueled the anger Mom had stoked earlier.

I took a deep breath and released it, remembering that cooler heads always prevailed. “Perhaps you weren’t privy to the fine print of Dad’s will, but I’m not to be included in any of the meetings regarding Aames Investments until I complete the vetting and approval process. I’m glad the business is doing so well. I’m sure Dad would have wanted that above all else.”

Bridges touched my shoulder and moved me further into the Eaton’s apartment so he could close the front door. Their home was quite the spectacle of ostentatious wealth, but then again, my parents’ place wasn’t a shack in the woods, either. It was all symbolic of the world where they all lived and thrived, the world of wealth. It was a world I wanted nothing to do with.

We went into the elaborate dining room to see a full Thanksgiving spread on the long table. There were people in attendance I’d never met, and my nerves were back, bringing along their friend, paranoia. Were they setting some sort of trap for me?

Instead of having wine with dinner, I decided it was best to stick to water. I needed to be on my best behavior—and my toes—when I met the other guests so I didn’t sound like an idiot while answering any questions.

Bridges escorted me around the room as everyone was finishing their cocktails. “Weston Aames, meet Renee Harmon and her son, Josh.”

Ms. Harmon held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Weston. I’m the CEO of Athletiwise Athletic Wear. I learned that you’re garnering a lot of attention for your cross-country ride. We’d love to discuss an opportunity to be a part of it as a sponsor.”

I glanced at Bridges to see a smile, so I turned to the woman. “Thank you, Ms. Harmon. I’d like to discuss a sponsorship with you at another time. I don’t want to disrupt the Eaton’s Thanksgiving celebration,” I quietly responded.